bracing rationality
by quorra laraex
Summary: Soul's undeniable thoughts on Maka Albarn. — And he might never understand what's so great about damned books, but he'll always acknowledge the fact they mean the world to her, because she means the world to him.


bracing rationality

Soul can be the biggest academic dimwit—_yes_, but he is most certainly not an idiot.

The Evans boy knows his technician is attractive, despite his ignorant comments about her appearance. There was never a day where the thought of her appeal just _hit_ him—he always knew it, ever since they met. He easily chose to ignore the subject, and when it ever came up, he'd lie; simple as that. He doesn't want to be an open book. It's not cool, he thinks. Some people do need a bit of a mystery. And relationships, they just never were really his thing. He never questioned his feelings or the way he couldn't fathom the thought of her dying, because—_well_—feelings were for squares.

Maka Albarn is pretty, he's aware. No doubt about it. Her locks are an ashy blonde, long and high on her head. Her lips are light and pink and soft and when she licks them as she thinks, Soul averts his eyes from her to prevent himself from being lured into them. She pouts a rather lot, he notices, and he decides he has this kind of fetish with the way her mouth looks perfect in everything she does. He likes her slender, long legs—peachy and smooth and he secretly likes how she always wears skirts. She's built, muscled, and toned, though one can't exactly tell by the clothes she wears. But he notices; he's seen her (almost) completely bare due to an awkward momentum in their apartment. It involved a slightly nude Maka, a book, and a painful after headache. He still debates whether that incident was worth it.

The eyes are his weakness. She stares him down with those large olive pools of hers, and he feels that he can't look away, as if he's absorbing every bit of her. The pair of eyes is that kind that people wish they had, with multiple layers of variations of green and hold a thick barrier of deviance behind it. It's always the oh-so innocent ones that hold the largest secrets.

He tries ignoring all this. He blocks it, and throws it to the back of his mind, but he's horrible at disregarding this subject, especially when he lives with her. So, he doesn't, but he doesn't precisely mention it, either.

He holds her a lot, or she holds him. It's the same both ways. He likes the comfort her hand has when its grasp is on his. It's warm and oozing with sincerity and complete oblivion. He likes it this way. Usually their grips are only to stay close to each other, agnate to the time they were trapped in the Book of Eibon. He found her in a state of odd depression, and they grab each other's hand and agree to not lose each other. Or in Russia, when they attempt to find Chrona—she clutches his hand delicately in the cold as they enter the tomb. She tells him she needs to resonate, but they both know they don't need to capture each other's grip to do that, nor does it make their souls stronger. He responded by squeezing her brisk hands with his fingers while it unconsciously intertwined. It felt nice—_cool_, even.

Soul has to stay rational, always. It's the way he is, and what usually Maka isn't. But the tension between them is mutual, and they both carry this connected mental compromise where they never bring their relationship to ground, to focus and be whisked into the air with stupid words. Instead, it's unquestioned acquiescence.

He's not exactly sure when the sudden pang in his chest seemed louder and stronger during her presence. He just knows that he only knew she was appealing since the beginning. Nothing more, nothing less. But it's different now, and they're older with a growing maturity and stubborn heads.

Even when everything is contrasting from their former lives, everything is still the same in a strange way. They still protect each other, they always will. They cook dinner for one another, they argue over burning the food, and he can be that same reckless, mischievous boy she's known for the longest time. She still barely understands the music, but she appreciates it. And he might never understand what's so great about damned books, but he'll always acknowledge the fact they mean the world to her, because she means the world to him.

(and he'll never admit it)

Sometimes her insecurities eat the best of her, clawing at her confidence. She never tells him though, but he perpetually notices. His senses are ignited and he feels her in his veins and as much as she tries to hide it with a plastered faux smile, he sees through her, regardless. Most times, he doesn't know how to comfort her and it irritates him to no end, until he does what he feels the need to do. He follows his instincts, calmly soothing the palms of her fingers with his own and leaned his forehead onto hers. He told her things would always be alright with him there, and he was suddenly surprised his actions worked so well.

Soul Evans can't comprehend how one adamant, provoking girl can make him feel so different and rather exceptional. He tries to maintain this intimidating and dark physique, but his façade is conditionally broken down when he's with her. She breaks his walls of privacy without even trying with her nifty self and warm heart.

Maka Albarn isn't just a girl, nor is she just his meister. She's an inspiration—strengthening, strong-willed, brave. He wants to be like her, confident from head to toe in combat. With her, he doesn't want to quit. He wants to keep going, to keep striving past the obstacles and past the enemies and past his own history. She's smart—a damned know-it-all who loved to rub her half assed facts in his face with her arrogant tone and cheeky grin. She's taught him to look forward with her undeniable optimism. The fact that she's secretly afraid of the concept of love (when she ironically continues to talk about the romance novels she reads) because of her parents is something she never shares, but he's not stupid. He doesn't care if she's frightened of or _to_ love. Love isn't his thing, either. They didn't have to conversate about these topics, nor were they forced to utter the word. With or without it, they were still themselves. And nothing could ever change that.

They are Soul and Maka, Evans and Albarn, weapon and meister constantly hand in hand with heart and mind and connecting souls. And even if she's not aware of his hidden feelings, she is all he would ever need.

* * *

**A/N:** i was having soul/maka feels lol... i havent read se in sooo long so i decided this weekend id catch up and i see sO MANY MOMENTS. theyre always holding hands or something omg im like dying


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